The Higher Self
by ginnyali
Summary: A DracoGinny fic written post HBP. The story begins the night after Draco almost kills Dumbledore. It should contain all major characters, and will be action, drama and romance.
1. Chapter 1

This is Chapter 1 of my first fan fiction – a story that takes place post HBP. Eventually, I am planning to make this a Draco/Ginny fic, but this should also contain some action and drama. I am going to keep the chapters very short so that I can update more frequently. I hope you like it! Enjoy :-)

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Steal-toed boots tapped out a methodic rhythm on the alternating dark-green and silver-gray marble tiles of Malfoy Manor. Black capes whirled and whipped around, as figure after figure apparated into the mansion and began marching towards the grand entrance hall, a room embellished with ornate pillars and carvings. Once present, the cape-wearers found their spot in a circle that was beginning to form – a circle of devotion, pulsing power and pain.

The heir to this estate and grandeur, Draco Malfoy, brushed the silver blonde hair out of his eyes, as he felt his feet hit the solid ground of his bedroom. He turned to look into the face of the man next to him. Greasy strands of black hair framed the pointed face, fierce black eyes, and aquiline nose of Severus Snape.

Draco's mind swirled and jolted, and the two words foremost in his thoughts tossed themselves out of his mouth before he could stop them, "Thank You."

The older man whipped around and directed a piercing look into the boy's cloudy, steel-gray orbs. "Do not thank me yet," he answered, before strutting out of the room and heading for the stairs.

Draco followed behind, elongating his strides to try and keep up, and cursing his lack of strength._ Could I make it any clearer, how much I was dreading my task! It's bad enough that I failed; now I've just admitted I'm glad that I did,_ he thought, scolding himself. Of course, the words he let slip were true. The pressure of his mission tore him apart, and when it came down to the final chore, a simple incantation and flick of a wand, he had crumbled.

Even as he rebuked himself, he knew that casting the Killing Curse was no easy feat. It was a complicated bit of magic that took a very strong emotional focus to be successful. Had he said the spell, it probably would not have worked. On the other hand, he was now a flesh and blood Death Eater, and the burning tattoo in his arm reminded him of that. A true servant would have been thrilled, honored to partake in such a deed. With each throb of the dark mark, he knew that being sworn into Voldemort's ranks, had not given him the dark desire to cause pain the other followers felt. _Is it an innate quality_, he wondered, _or can I still learn?_ He was desperate to please his master, and even more so his father.

Today it was made clear that Draco did not have what it took to be a supporter of the Dark Lord. He felt like a piece of paper, torn in two and dropped, left to float to the floor. He could only fulfill his deepest desire -- to make his father proud – through his own volition and action, and he had been incapable of doing so. His heart ached with self-hatred, but even more so with fear. The Dark Lord did not support failure, and Draco would be punished.

A sudden thought came into his head, and, in a voice that sounded breathy and shaky even to him, he asked, "Why did the Dark Lord choose to hold this meeting here, Professor?"

Snape turned. "I think it is safe to say that after tonight I am no longer your professor," he snapped, without answering his question.

Draco staggered down the stairs, almost tripping on the bottom step, as his stomach twisted and burned with terror – a fear for which he despised himself all the more. He entered his place in the circle last. A full ring of Death Eaters towered around him, and he felt like he was smothering in the black billowing capes. He turned his direction to a pedestal, from which a marble statue of Salzaar Slytherin had been moved aside, and replaced by a high-backed, mahogany and gold-gilt throne. The low lighting in the room was set specifically to illuminate Lord Voldemort; he sat there, twirling his wand in between his long, pallid fingers.

Dreading the frigid yet burning gaze of his master's red eyes, he looked down at the shining, green and silver floor, only to have his stomach wrench with another painful twist. His mother sat on a low stool at the Dark Lord's feet. Her eyes danced between the cloaked men, her mouth curled in a nervous grimace. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders; tangled and uncared for in a way she would never have been seen willingly. Her light green robes were of good quality, but disheveled, a symptom that could only be due to her restless mind. Narcissa had been informed that the Death Eaters were meeting in Malfoy Manor, but obviously, she had not been treated well. _This is why the meeting is being held in the manor,_ he realized. His mother sat there, a token of the fact that the Dark Lord was expecting Draco to fail, prepared to dole out his punishment, if need be. The young wizard's stomach began to burn with an anger that washed out the previous fear.

_How dare he bring her into this? _Draco thought. _She is not a Death Eater; she is nothing but a whipped housewife, a woman whose only goal in life is to please her husband and throw a good party. There is no reason for her to suffer._ But Draco knew this would not still the Dark Lords wand. Voldemort was willing to cause pain to anyone, if necessary. The young man laughed internally. _Who am I kidding? He causes pain all the time for no particular reason. He will not stop now, simply because my mother is innocent. _

His insides writhed and ached with anger, and shame. Tears he could barely restrain burnt in the corners of his eyes. _If she suffers tonight, only I am to blame. I knew what failing my task could mean. I could have cast the spell, but I was too much of a coward, to much of a… goody-goody – _the words in his mind brought the taste of bile into the back of his throat._ --too much of a little boy, to do my job. Now she will suffer, and it is entirely my fault._

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A/N Well, there it is – Chapter 1. If you have the time, let me know what you think! Thanks, Ali


	2. Chapter 2

Well, here is Chapter 2. I hope you enjoy it! If you read this please just drop me a review, even with just a couple of words, so that I know that people are reading and hopefully enjoying this story.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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Ginny Weasley stepped off of the Hogwarts Express, onto platform nine and three quarters, and into her mother's embrace.

"Welcome home, baby," Mrs. Weasley cooed into her ear.

It felt wonderful to be near her parents again. When with them, she was surrounded in a type of comfort and love that she could not get anywhere else. Her emotions were still tender and she was not fully healed, from the events of the past week. Her oldest brother, Bill, had almost been killed, her headmaster had been killed, and she had lost her boyfriend, all within a few days. Ginny struggled to hold back the tears she desperately wanted to cry. Nothing would be more comforting then to curl up with her mommy and sob her eyes out. She composed herself, _I am almost sixtteen, and I have to be much stronger than that. I cannot be breaking down anymore. I have had my chance to grieve, and now I must be stable and help support the family. _

Ginny rearranged the grimace on her face into a smile and moved on to hug her father, tucking her long red hair behind her ears, and wiping away any moisture that had formed in her large, caramel eyes. Her brother Ron, and friends Hermione Granger and Harry Potter all waited in turn to get their traditional embraces from Mrs. Weasley. Ginny stood back and watched as Harry offered her father a firm handshake. She still felt a pleasant flutter in her stomach as she gazed at his thin, tightly muscled form, messy black hair, and emerald eyes.

"Good to have you staying with us for the summer, Harry," her father beamed.

Harry had left Ginny in the most awkward position imaginable. They both knew they still cared for each other. He refused to be with her because he was worried about her safety. Her heart swung between feelings of caring and love because he wanted to protect her, and revulsion and anger at the fact that he did not trust her to be a part of the fight against Voldemort.

Ginny was never the damsel in distress. She could duel as well as anyone – better than most -- and she had just as much desire to fight He Who Must Not Be Named as Harry, certainly as much as either Ron or Hermione. Ginny had been personally affected by the evil of Voldemort, when she had been bewitched by his younger self, Tom Riddle, into opening the Chamber of Secrets and endangering fellow students. She wanted to get revenge, to prove that she was not weak, that if anything she grew stronger from that painful experience.

Her family and friends, breezed through the barrier that separated the magical and muggle worlds, and jumbled into a big black car, that her father had obviously acquired from the Ministry of Magic, purely for the purpose of getting Harry to the Burrow safely. The car magically jumped passed blocks of traffic, and was soon zooming down the country highway that would lead them to Ottery St. Catchpole, and the Weasley's home.

"So, Harry," Ginny's father called from the front seat, "What are your plans for this summer?" The car was being driven by a ministry auror; the Weasley elders sat together in the front passenger seat, which had been elongated to the size of a park bench, and fit them quite comfortably.

Harry answered from the back seat, where all four of the Hogwarts students sat with ample space, "Well, I suppose the first thing I am going to do is stop by the Dursley's," Harry answered, distaste obvious in his voice. "It's practically the last place I want to go, second only to Voldemort's lair, but Professor Dumbledore wants…" He paused, and the car fell silent at the former headmaster's name.

For a moment, Ginny had an urge to comfort Harry as his girlfriend, to squeeze his hand and give him reassurance, but she quickly remembered that this was no longer her place. _Well, that is one thing he'll loose, since he has dumped me,_ Ginny thought with a bit of malice. _He has chosen to handle his struggles by himself, and I will honor his decision. _

Harry recovered, however, and pressed on, "Professor Dumbledore wanted me to go back there one more time, before I come of age. So, I'm planning to leave for there in a few days; I wrote some letters, and Tonks and Moody have agreed to come with me. Then I'll definitely be coming back to the burrow for Bill and Fleur's wedding," Ginny felt the atmosphere in the car brighten, with the mention of the one happy event on the horizon. Harry continued, "After that… well, I haven't completely decided, but I think I would like to go and visit Godric's Hollow. I've never been there, you know, and I think it would be nice - to see where my mum and dad lived. Maybe that will give me some direction as to what I should do next." Ginny could hear her mother sniffle from the front seat. She always got a bit tearful at the mention of the late Lily and James Potter, and with, Professor Dumbledore's death added to this, the tears were soon weaving down her ruddy cheeks.

"That sounds like a wonderful plan," Mrs. Weasley murmured from the front seat. She turned and gave a teary, but encouraging, smile to the Boy Who Lived.

"And we're going with him to Godric's Hollow of course," Ron added, the pride and excitement evident in his voice. Harry turned and smiled at his two best friends, "I wouldn't have it any other way," he beamed, and Hermione and Ron grinned back at him, full of hope.

Ginny seethed. _He is not afraid for their lives! Oh no, it's just fine for him to risk their safety and have them fight for the light. But little Ginevra Weasley has to sit at home, protected like a porcelain doll, while the adults face the danger. What does he see me as, a baby? Has he ever known me, to be one to stand on the sidelines? No,_ she thought. _That is just it. He doesn't know me at all. He sees me as some idealist representation of his mother, not a real person with real desires and her own goals._

The ministry car pulled up to the Burrow, and before anyone could protest, Ginny ran through the house and out into the crisp forests behind. She sprinted through the trees, until the large, crooked house was no longer visible. She leaned back, breathing hard, against a giant oak, and slid down until she was sitting. The realization began to sink in –- her relationship with Harry was not based on real love, only on his deluded desire to be with someone that reminded him of Lily Potter. She took in a deep, shaky breath, and then she let herself weep.

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A/N Well, there it is! I'll get chapter 3 out as soon as possible. Please let me know if you are enjoying this story and would like me to continue. I have yet to get a review, so I have no idea whether this is just crap. ;-) Thanks! Ali


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